looking for heaven found the devil in me; any

[Rodrik]

There was always something fascinating about children. Perhaps it was the innocence each child was born with at birth, unknowing of the temptations and sins of this world. Children were merely a blank canvas, a history to be written, a chance to manipulate. Yes, it was the manipulation that Rodrik was drawn to—the naïvetés he is able to take ahold of and conjure fashion into something of his own liking or need. Even so, Rodrik is sometimes surprised by the young. Their eagerness for knowledge and own choices ponder him when he does not need to coax a plan of his own. Yet, for now, he does not dwell quickly into influence of this child. Rodrik is simply curious, and likely cautious when the girl mentions her mother. The red devil is not truly aware about many of the residents in this land. Some are old and new—he dares not make such a foul move. It was not in his character to be quick to act as well. Rodrik is always a careful planner and acts precisely when needed. “Why would your mother be afraid of you?” He asks with a tilt of his head, nutmeg gaze flickering back to the scaled girl. It was a strange statement to say and so Rodrik, seeking information always, insist on searching more for the reason. The little girl gives her name and he tastes it for a moment, “Ajatar.” It rings of something familiar, maybe a story he heard in one of the thousands of years he has lived or a soul he had once harbored before the Reckoning had come. Rodrik smiles to her politeness. There was something he liked about the girl already, eager for knowledge but so easy to spill information about herself. He liked a talkative person that made it easy to gain information from. If anything he could hardly get valuable information for a child, but Rodrik could be proven wrong perhaps. “It’s nice to meet you too. I have lived here since Carnage gave us this land,” he pauses for a moment, glancing across the wasteland, “yet, it was supposed to be much prettier than this.” And there it is again—fear. Rodrik peers at her again curiously, but he keeps it more masked this time than before. “The Reckoning? How strange for your grandfather to call you that.” He flicks an ear forward. “Some say this era is the Reckoning for Beqanna.” Rodrik falls silent for a moment, studying the girl carefully once again. “You must have something very special to be given such a name,” he does not prod any further than that.

character info: here | character reference: here | image © rostyslav zagornov